I’m driving along a wash-board logging road in a pick up truck full of friends. The box is stuffed with our bikes and seating space in the cab comes difficult between helmets and knee pads wreaking with the scent of a thousand summer rides. It’s a classic scene, but today feels special as we make our way along this routine road. The sun is hanging low and the sky is awash with a cloudy pink and blue glow. Each and every breath brings about a sting deep inside my lungs and a thin frost lines the window’s edge as I daydream about how rad this ride is sure to be. I am finally at home in the Loops again and the autumn season is firing. I haven’t got anywhere to be, and there is no place in the world I’d rather be than right here at home. Read More